by Lisa Plumley
“Oh, don’t stop there,” Donna disagreed with a wave of her lined hand. “Tell us all about yourself.” She leaned forward. “We want to know everything. Absolutely everything.”
Instantly, the group quieted. Everyone looked at Riley.
The air turned heavy. The night pressed in. A hard band of…something, some feeling he didn’t want to name, clamped around his chest. Trapped beneath it, Riley clutched his marshmallow toasting stick. He swallowed.
He couldn’t do it.
“Some other time,” he muttered. “I’ve got work to do.”
Then he threw his stick into the fire in a shower of sparks, and headed off into the darkness again.
Jayne looked from the smoldering stick to the man pushing away from the group. She watched Riley turn away, his face grim. His shoulders stiffened as he met the darkness at the edge of the campfire’s lighted circle, then he melted into the night.
Disappointment filled her. He’d been so close! He’d talked, he’d laughed…he’d done those things with ten other people, all at the same time. Riley had enjoyed himself; she knew he had. Jayne had watched him. She’d seen his wary, elbows-on-knees posture slowly give way to open, arms-waving interest. She’d seen his gaze slide from troubled to relieved. She’d witnessed his transformation from determined outsider to cautious joiner. In a single night, Riley had stepped far beyond the boundaries he’d set for himself.
And then things had gone too far. He’d retreated.
Helplessly, Jayne searched the murky tree-filled landscape for signs of him, looking for any glimpse of the strong, elusive man who’d captured her heart. She wondered if she should follow him. Riley had to be…lonely, out there. Loneliness was the worst thing she could imagine.
That decided it. Jayne got to her feet and said her goodnights. Alone, she grabbed another fleece from her tent, then went in search.
After a scary, flashlight-guided trek past some trees, she found him. Riley sat atop a boulder, gazing up at the night sky. For a moment, she let herself admire the stillness of his posture, the silent strength of his features…the courage that let him confront the darkness this way. He really was amazing. Stillness and silence were not Jayne’s personal strong suits. And courage? Heck, her idea of courage was braving a bikini wax without a triple-strength Tylenol beforehand.
She stepped closer. “Are you wishing on a star too?”
A pause.
“Don’t need to.” His voice sounded unsurprised, as though he’d known she was there all along. Riley looked over his shoulder leisurely, his face shadowed. “My wish just came true.”
In the darkness, intimacy laced his plainspoken words. Jayne felt herself warmed by it, even as she clambered onto the chilly rock beside him. She settled there, with Riley’s help, and cradled her flashlight securely between her palms.
“Oh, you couldn’t possibly have wished for me,” she said with a shrug, secretly pleased. “I mean, I was right there beside you. At the campfire, all along.”
“The campfire.” He exhaled. “Right.”
“What? It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“Define ‘bad.’”
“Riley—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He squeezed her knee, giving her a smile in the glow of the flashlight’s upright illumination. “What matters is that you’re here now.”
Awww. Jayne smiled. But still… “Everyone loved you! You were witty and charming and interested, which is even more important than interesting in my book. I mean, almost anybody can be fascinating, even if it’s only because they’re a little weird—”
“Weird? Are you trying to tell me something?”
She rolled her eyes. “But almost nobody is interested these days. With some people, you can’t get a word in edgewise, because they’re so busy talking about themselves.”
His lips quirked.
“And that’s not a problem with you!” Jayne hugged his arm, trying to transmit some enthusiasm to him. His warmth instantly chased away the outdoors’ chill. “Really, I’m very proud of you.”
His reply was a selfconscious hmmph. She leaned sideways, hoping to jostle him into good cheer. “Come on. I am! I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud you’re proud.”
“Admit it. It was a little fun, wasn’t it?”
He hesitated. Clearly, stronger measures were called for here. Like a tickle attack. Jayne jabbed the flashlight between her knees and lunged sideways. “Admit it! It was fun!”
“Hey!”
Her fingers probed his ribs, his flat abdomen, his sides. Riley gawped at her, automatically doubling over. She kept at it until his laughter overrode the crickets’ songs, until Riley wrestled both her wrists into his grasp and stopped her.
“It was a little fun,” he said grudgingly.
“And you enjoyed it.”
“Always have to push, don’t you?”
“Well?”
“Okay.” His smile widened. “The marshmallows were good.”
That was probably all she’d get out of him tonight, Jayne decided. “That’ll do. Tomorrow, we’ll tackle your side of the story. You can tell us all about your photography expeditions.”
He went still. Then he released her wrists. “I’d rather hear about what you’ve been doing for the past two years.”
Missing you. Wildly unwilling to say that, Jayne wrinkled her nose. She studied the trees silhouetted against the starry sky. “Writing a book. Going out with friends. Scouring shoe sales. The usual.”
Riley shook his head. “You know, after I left San Francisco, it was months before I could pass a shoe store and not automatically slow down…so you could have a look.”
His admission surprised her. “Good thing there aren’t many shoe stores in the Congo.”
“Yeah.” His gaze searched hers, igniting something forbidden and long-denied. “Good thing.”
“Yeah,” she repeated in a whisper, feeling herself melt into the attraction he’d always held for her. “Really good.”
I missed you, she read in his eyes. I still do. Jayne felt the same. Remembrances swirled between them. A hush fell over the forested landscape, as though the night itself waited to see what would happen. She held her breath. When she’d agreed to pick up where they’d left off, she hadn’t expected their reunion to pack such a wallop. And she hadn’t expected to like him again, either.
But she did.
She thought of Riley, slowing down at a shoe store. Glancing over his shoulder. Realizing she wasn’t there. She’d had those moments, too. Moments when their braided lives had unraveled before her eyes, over and over again.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d stop Dating Like A Man and start surrendering her heart like a woman.
“But I guess I should save all the best stories for tomorrow, right?” Briskly she sat straighter, lest she leave herself vulnerable to the subtle seduction of Riley’s body warming hers…to the pull of his companionship. Kissing amid the trees she could handle. Rekindling a friendship was trickier. “So…what do you usually do for fun on your adventure travel trips?”
“Fun?” He spread his arms. “This is it.”
“No, I mean—when you’ve hiked as far as you’re going to for the day, and you’ve finished all the work to be done, what do you do just for fun? If you don’t hang out by the campfire—”
“This. Is. It.”
“You spend time alone?” She’d seen it, but she hadn’t believed it. “On purpose? For fun?”
“It’s not a crime. It’s…peaceful.”
Jayne shook her head. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
At that, Riley seemed genuinely puzzled. He shrugged. “Alone isn’t lonely.”
“Of course it is!” He must be in denial. “If you’re alone, it means nobody wants to be with you.”
He made a wry face, then pretended to perform an underarm body odor check. “I hope not.”
Undeterred by his lightheartedness, she said seriously, “If you’re alone
, it means you don’t fit in.”
“It means you’re alone. By yourself. Period.”
“No!” Sure, he could pretend to be stoic about it, but Jayne couldn’t bear to think of him forever on the outskirts of life’s big campfire. Riley deserved more warmth than that. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. If you could only see—”
“It’s okay. I like it. Most of the time.”
Ah-hah! she thought, grasping onto the tiny confession he’d offered. He was lonely. And she couldn’t bear it. She’d spent too many years being on the outside herself, never fitting in with her family, to let Riley suffer a similar fate.
“‘Most of the time,’” Jayne repeated. “See? You need me. I can help you. I know I can. I know all kinds of ways to avoid being alone. Take a party, for instance. You might find yourself alone on the way to the ladies’ room—”
“Not very often.”
“—but if you take a friend, share your lipstick—”
“Again, that may be a problem for me.”
“—even offer to guard the stall door, you won’t be!”
He looked at her as though she were crazy. “I’m used to being alone. You don’t have to cure me of this.”
She did. She knew she did. Now that she recognized the extent of Riley’s un-admitted-to loneliness, Jayne knew she had to do something to help him.
“Let’s role-play some conversation,” she suggested.
His crazy woman expression deepened. “Let’s not.”
“Okay. Let’s practice cocktail party chit chat, then. It helps if you’re prepared with some subjects at hand. Like current events. Book group opinions. Canapé recipes.”
He raised his brows at her hopeful expression. “You can’t be serious.” He apparently saw that she was, and balked. “I don’t even know what a canapé is.”
“See? That’s why you need a recipe! Now let me think about this…first we need a good opener.” She considered a few, then brightened. “Like, ‘I love your dress!’ Or, ‘How do you know the host?’” She smiled at him. “Now, your turn.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“No, that might offend your host.”
“Jayne, snap out of it.”
“That might offend me!”
“I mean it.” Riley slipped his hand to her cheek, gently turning her face toward his. Her demonstration party face met his solemn expression, and she felt her features droop.
“Being alone isn’t that bad,” he said. “I’ll show you.”
He shifted on their shared rock, as though preparing to get up. Panicked, Jayne grabbed his arm. “Just don’t take the flashlight with you.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m…demonstrating.”
Confused, she watched through the dimness as Riley found a new position on the boulder. The next thing she knew, they were sitting back to back, not touching. She started to turn around.
His touch stopped her. “Hold still. Pretend you’re alone.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Do it for me.”
At the thought, her whole body tensed. But she didn’t want Riley to think she was a coward, any more than she wanted him to think she wasn’t over him. So Jayne nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.” His deep voice, so familiar and so welcome, comforted her. “Now, relax and look up.”
Hesitantly, she did.
“See the stars? All you have to do is look at them.”
Jayne almost scoffed. She could do that. She’d been wishing on stars her whole life. She craned her neck and complied. A glittery panorama met her view.
“Wow.”
“Don’t talk. You’re alone.”
“Of course I’m not alone. You’re right—”
He cleared his throat. She piped down.
Several minutes later, a night breeze rustled the tree branches and pulled her attention from the stars. This ‘alone’ thing sure felt real, Jayne realized. For all she knew, Riley had snuck off while she’d been stargazing, and…
Yikes! She grabbed for his hand.
“I’m right here,” he said, linking his fingers with hers. He didn’t turn around, didn’t scoot nearer so their backs touched. He didn’t have to. His presence was all she needed.
“That was ten minutes straight,” Riley announced over the sound of her pounding heart. “You survived. I’m proud of you.”
“Great.” Jayne sagged with relief. “Can I stop now?”
“If you want to.”
She did stop. Gratefully. When she turned, it was to see Riley’s beaming face. She didn’t have the heart to remind him this hadn’t been a genuine ‘alone’ experience. Not when she’d known he was with her every minute. But he was sweet to care about her, all the same.
Jayne told him so. He shook his head and muttered something subject-changing about the stars. Before she could so much as explain her feelings in more depth, Riley launched into a story about what the ancient Mayans had believed about the night sky. She found herself diverted. He pointed out constellations and galaxies, outlined the Milky Way with sure movements of his hands, handed her a knit hat from the pocket of his fleece for warmth.
In return, Jayne showed him the star formations she’d discovered during her ‘alone time.’ The Lipstick galaxy, slender and sparkly. The powder-perfect circle of moon. The PMS black hole. Riley laughed and nodded as she pointed them out, and in the end, things turned out nicely. Really nicely.
They stayed that way, too. At least they did until Jayne returned to camp…and found the javelina waiting in her tent.
Chapter Seventeen
Morning dawned totally too early on the trail, in Alexis’s opinion. Before the sun had finished crawling above the cliff near their campsite, she was awakened by the sound of pots clanking and water being poured. It was like some demented Galloping Gourmet had taken the place of a normal alarm clock. Alexis would have preferred waking up to her radio blaring dance remixes.
Sleepily, she checked to see if her boobs had magically grown bigger overnight. She prayed her feet hadn’t managed the same thing. Everything was the same. Depending on how you looked at it, that was okay.
Wiggling as wakefulness slipped through her, Alexis wondered how her mom was doing in Mexico. She wondered if Gary the Geek was still there, too. She wondered if any phone calls had come to Nana and Gramps’s place while she’d been gone, and if her mom was sorry she’d missed talking to Alexis.
Fiercely, Alexis hoped so. It would serve her mom right. Maybe then she’d realize her “little girl” wouldn’t care about lame phone calls forever. Soon, Alexis would be going away to college. She’d be too busy to think about things like sometimes wanting a hug from her mom.
Ugh. It was way too early to be so bummed out. Alexis crawled out from the solitary nylon dome she’d pitched beside Carla and Mitzi’s shared tent.
The cold, fresh air made her skin tingle. She gulped in a big lungful, pretending she was an experienced older woman camping out with her gorgeous boyfriend. Her famous recording artist boyfriend. Yeah, that was it. He’d been so blown away by Alexis’s hot bod, personal charm, and overall babe-ishness that he’d ditched his personal touring jet to spend time with—
“Coffee?” Lance asked.
Sucked from her daydream by his reedy voice, Alexis frowned. How had he managed to sneak up on her like that? Worse, had he actually seen her…pretending, like a kid?
“Coffee stunts your growth, dodo head. Don’t you know anything?”
“It’s really good.” He waved the cup beneath her nose, obviously trying to tantalize her. “I made it myself.”
She exhaled. “If I take it, will you quit pestering me?”
His answer was a grin. A grin that reached all the way inside her. A grin that seemed to say, you’re terrific. Startled by it, Alexis stared.
The next thing she knew, Lance was wrapping her fingers around the stupid coffee cup. “It’ll keep you warm,” he said.
His touch jol
ted her. She gawped.
“You, uh, look pretty with your hair like that.”
He was copying Uncle Riley. Uncle Riley had said almost the same thing to Jayne around the campfire last night. Not that Alexis cared right now. For some reason, she felt like giggling. Or maybe batting her eyelashes.
She looked around to make sure no one was nearby to witness this embarrassing turn of events. “Thanks.” She couldn’t prevent a smile, and suddenly wished she’d brushed her teeth.
“No prob.” Lance puffed out his chest. He studied his shoes, then glanced up at her with his head still partly ducked. “Hey, you want to join up in the same group today? I know a spot where there’s some cool wildflowers. I could show it to you.”
Alexis knew that spot. But for some reason, she didn’t want to say so. “Uh, okay. I guess.”
Still feeling giggly, she slurped her coffee. It burned her tongue, and seared all the way down. But she didn’t want to hurt Lance’s feelings, so she stifled a wince. Determined to finish her coffee, she took a smaller sip and stared at the sunrise as it filtered between the trees.
Beside her, Lance stared at the sunrise, too. A little of the awkwardness between them dissolved. He edged closer, and their shoulders touched.
Giddiness shot through Alexis, followed rapidly by a whoosh of excitement. Lance smiled at her. That was when she knew—the trouble with Brendan had been that he was a boy. Lance was a man. Almost, anyway. This time, she was positive everything would be different.
Riley reached Jayne’s tent that morning just as she shoved aside the flap and crawled out. He watched fondly as she pushed to her feet and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. Then he swept his gaze over the rest of her. He frowned.
It looked as though Jayne had gotten dressed in the dark. There wasn’t a scrap of baby blue in sight. Her trail pants had a hole in the knee. And he was pretty sure her fleece was on backward, judging by the way the zippered collar fluffed up behind her head like a lion’s ruff. He strode nearer.
Her red-rimmed eyes bugged at the movement.
“It’s okay,” he said, making a calming gesture. “It’s just me.”
“Whew! For a second there, I thought you were the javelina again.” Jayne shifted her gaze warily from side to side. “I’ve been up most of the night waiting for it to come back.”
